


A Light on the Horizon

by tkjaney



Series: Lacey Bellthorne [1]
Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: 66th Hunger Games, I've wanted to write this fic since 2012, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25196521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tkjaney/pseuds/tkjaney
Summary: The tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4 are known as the "Career" tributes- revered in our own districts, and universally hated in the others. We are trained from a young age to be faster, smarter, and stronger than the rest. We are bred to be the deadliest killers in the competition. But unlike most of the other Careers, I'm not in it for the recognition and the glory of victory. I'm in it because this is my only shot to give my baby brother a chance at the life he deserves. I am Lace Bellthorne of District 1, and this is my story.
Series: Lacey Bellthorne [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825312
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

_June 27. One week until the Reaping._

I was jolted from my slumber by my obnoxiously loud alarm clock. I slammed the top of it until it stopped ringing and rubbed my eyes. It was 6 AM. I didn’t have to report to Mr. Byrd’s until 8, but I needed time to get my warmup in. I climbed out of bed and checked on my little brother. He was still sound asleep in his bed on the other side of the room as if my alarm clock had never gone off. That boy could sleep through anything.

I grabbed a change of clothes and my shoes and went into the bathroom. Once I had changed, I splashed my face in the sink. My eyes were particularly bleary this morning and my hair was a rat’s nest. I quickly ran a comb through it and tied it back in a loose ponytail. I pulled on my shoes carefully, trying not to ruin them any more than they already were. I had these shoes for years, and there were so many holes in them that they were almost unwearable. With the meager amount of money my family was bringing in, I couldn’t afford to buy any new ones. Before I left for my run, I decided to check on my dad.

I left the bathroom and walked towards his room. The door wasn’t quite closed all the way and the lights weren’t on. I knocked quietly, being extra careful not to make any unnecessary sound.

“Dad?” I called softly, slowly pushing the door open. He wasn’t there, which I wasn’t surprised by. Either he had already left for work or he was drunk and lying face-down in a ditch somewhere. I left my house, ready to start my day.

It was a warm June morning, but the breeze still felt cool on my skin. Outside, people were already headed towards work. I wondered if my dad was among them.

I grew up in the mining village just outside of the District Center, and I still lived here with my brother and my father, despite having just turned eighteen. District 1 manufactured the Capitol’s luxury items, and having the word “luxury” associated with us made people from outside our District forget that there were still some of us that had to mine the materials for said luxury items. A lot of of us didn’t have the fancy factory jobs, and if you were born to a family of miners like I was, getting out of that life was practically impossible.

Nearly all of the houses in the village were ramshackle buildings on the verge of falling apart. Ours was lucky to even have our own running water. The Peacekeeper presence around here was also much larger, and the laws were enforced more strictly than they were in the District Center. I always had to be careful during my runs or I’d be arrested. I began my run, weaving between the buildings on my block. There were Peacekeepers stationed on nearly every single corner, and I needed to be careful not to be seen. Once I had taken a couple laps around the neighborhood, I headed back to my house.

When I got back, I scanned the house for any sign of my dad. Everything was still as I had left it, so he obviously hadn't come back. Hopefully he was at work. I checked the clock. It was 7:15 and we needed to be at Mr. Byrd’s by 8. I went to go wake up my brother, who was still fast asleep. I lightly touched his shoulder and shook him gently.

“Marvel?” I said. “It’s time to get up.”

“Do I have to?” he grumbled, pulling the blankets up over his head. “It’s so early!”

“Yes, you have to,” I said, pulling the blankets off of him. “We’ve got to go to Mr. Byrd’s.”

“Fiiiine,” he said, getting out of bed as dramatically as possible. His sandy hair was severely disheveled, and his nose was caked in dirt.

“You need to take a bath,” I said, pinching his nose. “You’re stinky.”

“No, YOU’RE stinky!” he grumbled.

“At least go wash your face,” I said, chuckling. “I’ll make you some breakfast.”

I closed the door and walked to the kitchen. The bread I pulled from the cabinet was dense and hard, not like the fluffy white bread that was sold in the bakery downtown. It’s a shame that the Capitol wouldn’t send us anything better.

I had taken out tesserae since I was twelve years old. It wasn’t common for people from District 1 to take out tesserae, but since I had three mouths to feed and only half a functioning parent, it had to be done. That meant this year my name was in the Reaping Bowl twenty-one times. Not like it mattered that much anyway.

We had volunteers every single year for as long as I could remember, so even if my name had been pulled before, I wouldn’t have had to go to the Games anyway. Perhaps everyone should have taken advantage of that fact, just for the sake of getting a little extra food on the table. But if you could comfortably afford the good stuff, plus a little extra on the side, why bother with the slop the Capitol sent us every month?

I opened the icebox to see what else we had- two slices of cheese and a little bit of turkey. I made two sandwiches and put all the turkey on one of them.

“Marvel!” I called. “It’s time to go!”

He emerged from the bathroom, still pulling on his shirt. His nose was still dirty. He’d obviously hadn’t washed up and was just pretending he had.

“Marvel…” I said, annoyed. I grabbed a wet washcloth and scrubbed the grime off his face. “You can’t go into Mr. Byrd’s shop looking like that.”

“But Lacey, I don’t even want to go to Mr. Byrd’s,” he griped.

“If you want to eat tonight, you have to go,” I said, handing him the sandwich with the turkey on it. He begrudgingly took it and followed me out of the house. By the time we had left, the normal bustle of the District Center had begun. People were starting to come outside, and the factory workers were probably starting to arrive at work. We were almost to Mr. Byrd’s when Marvel tugged on my hand and snapped me out of my daydreaming.

“Where was Dad this morning?” He asked.

“I think he left for work a little early,” I said, uncertain.

“No, he never came home last night,” he said. “I woke up to get a drink of water and he wasn’t in his room. Why is he always gone?”

I stopped walking and I kneeled so I was at his eye level.

Marvel had never really known what it meant to have parents that loved him. Our mom died when I was eleven and Marvel was only two. He could hardly remember her, but I missed her every day. Marvel reminded me so much of her. He had her kind spirit, her warmth, and her absolute joy for life despite what little we had. He looked exactly like her too.

Before she passed, our dad was kind and loving, always doing what he could to make sure we were happy. Nowadays, he was depressed and bitter. We rarely saw him at home. When he was actually around, he was usually drunk. He could almost never go a full day without screaming at us, or shutting down completely. We never knew which version of Dad we’d get on any given day. Poor Marvel was only eight, and didn’t understand why our dad was the way he was.

I, for one, couldn’t wait to get us the hell out of that house.

“Daddy’s gonna be fine, hon,” I said. “Don’t worry about him. I’m gonna take care of you, okay?” I stood up and we continued towards Mr. Byrd’s.

Mr. Byrd ran a surplus jewelry shop in the heart of the District Center that only the wealthiest in the District could afford to patronize. He had a good relationship with the factory owners, who in turn had a good relationship with the Capitol. Any pieces that were appraised too low for the Capitol’s citizens ended up in Mr. Byrd’s shop. Mr. Byrd’s granddaughter, Diamond, also happened to be my best friend, so he let Marvel and I work for him to earn some extra money when we weren’t in class. Marvel would clean the store while I did my work in the back.

We arrived at the shop just before 8 o’clock. Mr. Byrd was already waiting for us at the door.

“Good morning!” he said.

Mr. Byrd was a stout man in his late sixties. His hair was beginning to turn white, but it blended in nicely with his ash blond hair. He was a sweet man, and he always had a warm smile on his face.

“Hi, Mr. Byrd!” Marvel said energetically.

“Hello, son,” he replied warmly. “Come on in. We’ll have you do a little cleaning today.”

All three of us went into the store, with Marvel closely following Mr. Byrd. I walked over to one of the displays in the back and peered through the glass. A necklace was on display inside the case, and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid my eyes on. On the necklace was a small teardrop-shaped emerald, embedded in a gold pendant with small diamonds around the edges, all on a long gold chain. It was one of the most expensive pieces in the entire store.

_Someday._

_Someday I will be able to afford this._

“Isn’t it beautiful, Lace?”

I startled slightly and turned to see Mr. Byrd standing behind me.

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, it is. It’s perfect. I can’t imagine why anybody wouldn’t want it.”

“Look a little more closely,” he said, pointing at the emerald.

I turned back to the display case and looked at the necklace again. Surely enough, there was a tiny little crack in the emerald. It was hardly noticeable enough to be unworthy of going to the Capitol.

“But who cares about a little damage?” I asked. “It doesn’t take away from the beauty of the whole thing.” Mr. Byrd gave me a half-smile.

“Diamond is waiting for you in the back, you should go ahead and get to work.”

“Yes, sir.”

I headed towards the backroom. It was cluttered with loads of empty boxes and other things strewn about. It was in desperate need of organization, but I was needed elsewhere. In the corner of the backroom was the door to the cellar of the building. I opened it and went down the stairs, careful to close the door above me. The cellar was pitch black and the air was so thick with dust that it was difficult to breathe. I was careful going down the stairs and turned on the light as soon as I got to the bottom. In the corner was a series of tall file cabinets stacked on top of each other. I pulled a small key out of my pocket and inserted it into the keyhole in the first file cabinet. The lock clicked, and the wall of file cabinets swung open. The lights were already on in the room just beyond and I stepped through the doorway. Diamond was waiting for me inside. It was time for training to start.

“Hey, Twinkle-Toes,” she said with a smirk. “You ready?”

“Always."


	2. Chapter 2

_June 27, One Week Until The Reaping_

In case it wasn’t already obvious, Mr. Byrd’s shop was a front for the makeshift training center in the basement. Technically, it was illegal for people to train for the Hunger Games, and for a long time, nobody did. However, this changed after the first Quarter Quell was announced. When the Capitol forced the Districts to choose who they would be sending into the arena, we began to train the strongest children in the District to up our chances of winning the Games. It worked too. Not only did a tribute from District 1 win the 25th Hunger Games, but District 1 had been a powerhouse in the Games ever since.

Mr. Byrd had spent the last forty years schmoozing and cultivating good relationships with the most powerful people in the District. Because of this, they were more inclined to look the other way when he started using his store as a training facility for the older kids that were already slated to volunteer.

So far, I was the only one that had arrived, but soon the others would show: next year’s volunteers, Ruby and Augustus, and my volunteer partner, Malachi. Diamond had just turned nineteen, and was too old for the Games, so she helped us train instead.

“What do you want to do ‘til the others show up?” she asked.

“Maybe I can do some target practice,” I said, walking over to the weapon rack. My choice weapon was the spear. It was unusual for the female tributes to use spears in the Games, so I picked it up a few years ago to make myself stand out. I hoped it would work. I took a couple spears off the rack and walked over to the range. There were several targets set up at various short-range distances. Spears couldn’t be thrown as far as an arrow could be shot, but you could still fight in a melee with them. They were sort of the best of both worlds, which is why I liked them so much. I took the first spear and hurled it towards the nearest target. Direct hit where its heart would have been. I threw the second spear at the next-closest target. Another direct hit.

“We all know you can hit the close ones,” Diamond said, chuckling. “That’s not gonna impress anybody. Try for one of the farther ones.”

“Fine,” I said. I picked up my last spear and aimed for the farthest target, about forty feet away. I took a deep breath and threw it. It wobbled in the air and stuck in the target’s shoulder.

“Damn,” I muttered to myself.

“It’s okay,” Diamond said. “You just held it too close to the balance point. You’ll have better accuracy if you hold it a little bit behind the balance point.”

Suddenly a voice came from the doorway.

“There’s only a week until the Reaping, you’re gonna have to do better than that.”

I turned to see my volunteer partner, Malachi, standing there, his arms folded with his signature sneer on his face.

Though we had known each other for years, I never made an effort to be friends with Malachi. We had known that we were volunteering the same year since we were about fifteen, and since then, I never saw a point in befriending him. Especially now. At least one of us would be dead in a matter of weeks. Friendship would just complicate things. Besides, I didn’t even really like him in the first place.

Malachi had grown up in the District Center just like Diamond, but his parents didn’t raise him with the kind of grace and humility that her parents had raised her with. He was selfish, stuck up, and weak-willed. Like me, he was also eighteen years old, but unlike me, everything about him was smooth and polished. It was probably because he had never suffered a single day in his entire life. He happened to be pretty decent with a sword, but once it got down to the toughest part of the Games, I knew he wouldn’t last. He didn’t know what it meant to be hungry. I felt confident that I could defeat him.

“What, like you can do any better?” I snapped, clenching my fists.

“Cool it, Lace,” he said. “Anyway, the old man needs you upstairs. You’d better get going if you want to eat tonight.”

“Shut up,” Diamond said.

“I can handle myself,” I said quietly as I passed by her. “But thanks.”

I headed towards the stairs and made sure to shove past him on my way out. Marvel was at the top of the steps sweeping the dust out of the backroom. He still didn’t know about the training facility in the cellar.

“Hey, buddy,” I said, ruffling his hair as I passed. “Keep up the hard work.”

“What are you always doing down there?” he asked.

“Inventory with Diamond and Malachi,” I said. It was obviously a lie, but it’s what Mr. Byrd had told us to say whenever we were asked about our more illicit activites. I imagined it was probably more a concern when it was Peacekeepers or other outsiders asking, but Marvel didn’t know I was I was volunteering yet, so I had been telling him the same thing. I felt awful about it- the Games were only a week away and I still didn’t know how to tell him I was going.

“What’s inventory?” Marvel asked.

“Uh...”

“It’s when you’re counting up how many we of each item we have in the store,” said Mr. Byrd, who had just entered the back room. “But right now, I need your sister to do a delivery.”

“A delivery?” I asked.

“Yes, if you’ll come with me.”

I followed Mr. Byrd into the main room, where a small brown paper package was sitting on the main counter. He handed me the package as well as a small note.

“These are the delivery instructions.”

I opened the note and read the instructions. I knew the address on the label all too well.

“Pardon me, Mr. Byrd, but do I have to do this delivery?” I asked. “You know how he is. By the time I return, I’ll have wasted half the training day.”

“Must I remind you who works for who? I’m still running a business here. Besides, he specifically requested you make the delivery. I can’t let a Victor down, can I? Bad for business.”

“I understand, sir,” I said after a moment. “I’ll be back soon.”

I picked up the package and headed out the door. I tucked it under my arm and started to jog towards the gate at the end of the road. I looked utterly out of place in the District Center. Here was where the wealthiest of District 1 worked and resided. Walking down the street in my tattered shoes and sweaty clothes, I looked around at the wealthiest people in the District going about their days. I didn’t belong here.

I crossed through the Main Square where the stages and cameras were still being set up for the Reaping at the end of the week. I ended up stopping for a moment. Soon Malachi and I would be on that stage. Soon I would be the female tribute from District 1 and I would finally be able to escape from this place, even for a short time. I started walking again. The gates to the Victor’s Village were just a few blocks away.

“Hey, you!” a deep male voice shouted from behind me. “Stop!”

I turned and saw two Peacekeepers running towards me. I stopped and waited for them. No doubt they decided to randomly stop me because of how out of place I looked. It happened at least a dozen times before.

“Who are you and what are you doing here? What’s in that package?” the male Peacekeeper asked, pointing at it with his nightstick.

“My name is Lace Bellthorne,” I said, trying to sound as calm as possible despite the fact that I was being interrogated by two heavily armed Peacekeepers. “I work for Gavin Byrd and I’m running a delivery for him. Do you need my identification?”

“Okay, Miss Bellthorne,” the other Peacekeeper, a woman, said, ignoring my question. “Can you open that package for us?”

“It’s not mine, I don’t know if I should-”

“Open it!” she said, suddenly whacking me in the side with her nightstick and causing me to drop the package. I doubled over and grabbed my side, trying to catch a breath.

“Ma’am, Mr. Byrd sells jewelry,” I said breathlessly. “You might have just broken whatever was in there!”

“Don’t get smart with me,” she snapped, winding up to hit me again. I braced myself for the incoming blow.

“Hold on, Alix,” the male Peacekeeper said. I looked up at him and saw that he had picked up the package and was reading the label. “She’s telling the truth.”

He helped me up and handed me the package.

“Pardon our suspicion, ma’am, we don’t usually get your type round these parts. Perhaps we could walk you to your destination,” he said, turning to the other female Peacekeeper. “She’s headed to Victor’s Village.”

“Sure,” I said, knowing that it was more of a command than an offer.

I stood back up and saw that a handful of people were staring at us. Staring and doing nothing to intervene. I walked the remaining three blocks to the gated community that all the Victors lived in, with the two Peacekeepers tailing closely behind me. Once we got there, I walked up to the call box and pushed the button.

“Purpose for your visit?” asked the guard on the other end of the line.

“I have a delivery for Number 8,” I said.

“Alright, come on in,” he said, and the gates slowly swung open.

The Victor’s Village was the most extravagant place in the whole district. Each Victor moved here after winning their Games. I had been through a couple times for deliveries, but I didn’t get to come very often. Each home was a multi-story mansion, with a massive green lawn. There were dozens of these mansions built, but only nine of them were occupied. I looked at the label on the package again.

_8 Winner’s Way_

_Victor’s Village_

_No Signature Required_

Me and my Peacekeeper entourage finally arrived at Number 8, and I walked up to the front door. I took a deep breath and knocked as loudly as I could. The door quickly swung open. In the doorway stood Gloss Kestrel, the Victor from the 63rd Hunger Games.

“Doily! It’s good to see you!” he exclaimed. “Please come in!”

“Hi, Gloss,” I said, rolling my eyes at the nickname. I stepped past him and into the house.

I had known Gloss for as long as I could remember. He was a year ahead of me in school, but we had trained together for years before his Games. He was a much better fighter than I was though, going into the Games when he was sixteen instead of at eighteen like most of us were.

We were really close once, but now… now we lived in different worlds. While I knew there was still something lingering between us, we almost never got to see each other. Gloss rarely came into town, and when he did, he was swarmed by dozens of teenaged girls, begging for autographs and hugs, as if we hadn’t all been classmates at one point. As for me, I only got to go into the Victor’s Village when I was making deliveries like these. It had only been three years since Gloss won the Hunger Games, but it felt like so much longer than that.

“Alix! Theseus! Thank you for escorting my friend! I’ll take it from here,” Gloss yelled from the porch. He quickly waved them off and followed me inside, closing the door behind him.

“I didn’t know you were on a first-name basis with the Peacekeepers,” I said, placing the package down on the countertop next to the doorway.

I took a moment to admire the entryway of Gloss’s home. The floors, walls, and columns were a fine marble, and a large crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling.

“It helps to make some friends, you know,” Gloss said. “You should try it sometime.”

“Well, your ‘friends’ gave me a good whack on my way here,” I said, slightly lifting up the corner of my shirt. There was a big red mark where Alix the Peacekeeper had hit me, and it was already starting to turn into a bruise. Once my point had been made, I tucked my shirt back in. Because we were the “luxury” district, a lot of Peacekeepers wanted to be deployed here. Capitol citizens always got first dibs, so nearly all of our Peacekeepers came straight from the Capitol, rather than the other Districts. You could always tell which ones came from the Capitol too. They were always a little more eager to beat us, to show us who was in charge.

“I should get going,” I said, turning towards the door.

“Wait,” he said. “Why don’t you stay for a little bit? I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I need to train.”

“No, you don’t,” he said. “I’ve seen you fight. And I’ve seen the kind of tributes that come from the other Districts. You can afford to miss a few minutes.”

“Fine,” I said after a moment.

Gloss picked up the package and started unwrapping it. He pulled out a pair of large diamond studded earrings. I looked up at his earlobes and saw tiny black studs in each ear that I hadn’t noticed before. He must have gotten them pierced the last time he was in the Capitol. He pulled out the smaller studs and put in the new ones.

“What do you think?” He asked, a wide grin on his face.

“They’re alright,” I said.

“Just alright?”

“I never had you pegged as a jewelry kind of guy,” I said.

“Fame changes you,” he said overdramatically, causing me to roll my eyes again. “Come on, I was just about to eat my breakfast.”

Gloss headed towards the parlor. I followed him closely, trying to ignore the smell of his breakfast, which was becoming more overwhelming by the minute. He pulled out a chair at the table and gestured towards it.

“Take a seat, Doily,” he said.

“Stop calling me that, it’s not funny,” I said, sitting down in the chair. He called me that dumb nickname ever since we were little kids, as if he had room to talk. His name was literally Gloss.

“I think it’s funny,” he said.

“Shut up.”

He sat down across from me, where a big plate of corned beef hash, bacon, and toast awaited him. It looked so delicious, and it was reminding me just how hungry I was. I felt my stomach growling, and Gloss must have heard it. He pushed the plate across the table so that it was in front of me.

“Eat,” he said, handing me his fork.

“I’ve told you over and over, I don’t want your charity.”

“But you do need it,” he said. “Please, I have more food than I could possibly eat. It’s like you actually want to go the rest of the day just eating your tesserae bread.”

“Okay, I get it,” I said. I was trying to sound annoyed, when in reality I was just grateful to have something other than stale bread and moldy cheese for breakfast. I started eating as quickly as I could. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a meal like this. I probably looked disgusting, shoveling this food into my mouth like a hog.

“So, how’s the old man?” Glass asked after a moment.

“Hell, if I know,” I said nonchalantly. “I haven’t seen him in days.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “What about Marvel?”

“He’s fine,” I said.

“What does he think about you volunteering?” he asked. My breath caught in my chest.

“He doesn’t know yet.”

A dark look crossed Gloss’s face.

“Lace, you’re going to have to tell him soon. The Reaping is in a week.”

“I don’t want to scare him.”

“If you don’t tell him soon, you won’t just scare him, you’ll traumatize him,” he said. “I can’t believe you haven’t told him yet!”

I looked down at my empty plate, trying to play off the feeling of guilt bubbling inside me.

“He’ll be fine,” I said. “I’ll get through the Games and he’ll have everything he ever wanted.”

“What the hell is the matter with you, Lacey?!” Gloss shouted suddenly. “You don’t know what it’s like in there. Nothing is guaranteed. What happens if you die? He’ll have nothing, and he’ll starve to death like the rest of the-”

“I know!” I yelled back. “I know. I already feel like shit about it, you don’t need to rub it in.”

We sat at the table in silence for a moment.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Gloss said earnestly.

“It’s okay,” I said. “You were right.”

I buried my head in my hands and tried to blink back the tears. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I sat up and saw Gloss, who had moved next to me. He was looking at me sadly, rubbing my shoulder with one hand.

“I’m scared,” I said, barely above a whisper. “The closer to the Reaping we get, the more afraid I feel. There’s so much that’s out of my control… I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“Hey, come here,” Gloss said gently, helping me stand up. He pulled me into a tight hug. We stood there for a few minutes. I could hear his heartbeat slowly beating in his chest. It was calm and relaxed, unlike mine, which was racing at a million miles per hour. I wondered if he could tell. After a little while, I pulled away. His shirt was damp from where I had been quietly crying into his chest.

“I should get back to the shop,” I said, wiping my eyes one last time.

“Here,” Gloss said. “I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I said.

“I know. I want to.”

I followed Gloss out the side door of his house and into the garage. After he won the Games, the first thing he did was buy a car. Only the wealthiest in the District could afford to buy a car, and although Gloss’s father was a foreman at one of the factories, they still couldn’t afford one. Since Gloss was a bona fide adult now, his parents spent most of their time at his sister Cashmere’s home across the street. Cashmere won her Games the year after Gloss. Between the fact that two tributes from the same District won in back-to-back games, and the fact that they were brother and sister made them extremely popular in the Capitol. They’d frequently be asked to go back and visit, even when they weren’t there for the Games. I wondered if I won, would I be getting the same kind of invitations?

I climbed into the passenger seat of Gloss’s car. The seats were soft and comfortable, much more comfortable than I imagined they’d be. I couldn’t remember the last time I rode in a car. Gloss got into the driver’s seat and we pulled out of his garage. The car engine rumbled quietly as we drove back to Mr. Byrd’s shop. I leaned my arm on the armrest dividing our seats, closed my eyes and thought about Marvel. I knew he was going to be fine without me. Diamond had convinced her grandfather to keep letting Marvel work at the shop in case I didn’t make it back. And I knew that Gloss would take care of him. That’s the kind of person he was. However, that still didn’t quiet the doubts running through my mind. Our dad didn’t give a shit about Marvel, and if I died, he would still be all alone, even if my friends stepped in to take care of him. Maybe going to the Games at all was a mistake. But it was too late to go back now.

I felt something rough gently touch my hand. I opened my palm and Gloss’s fingers intertwined with mine. I kept my eyes closed and took a few deep breaths. I finally opened my eyes.

We arrived at the shop, and nobody bothered us on our way. Gloss parked behind the building and turned off the engine. We sat there in silence for a few minutes, still holding hands. After a moment, I pulled away and fixed my hair.

“Thank you for the ride,” I said. “And the food.”

He offered me a small smile and nodded.

“I’ll see you soon, Doily.”

This time I couldn’t help but smile back.

“Okay.”

I got out of the car and headed back into Mr. Byrd’s shop.

“How’d the delivery go?” Mr. Byrd asked as I walked in the door.

“It went well. He really liked the earrings,” I said, electing not to tell him about my run-in with the Peacekeepers.

Mr. Byrd smiled at me and waved me away.

“Get back to it, then!” He said.

“Yes, sir.”

I headed to the back room, where Marvel was sitting cross-legged on the floor. He was sorting through some of the papers that were still strewn about the floor.

“What are you working on, buddy?” I asked.

“I’m just looking around,” he told me. “I swept the entire store, except for the cellar. But I’m not allowed down there anyway. Where did you go?”

“I went to see Gloss.”

“No way!” Marvel said excitedly. “Can I come next time?”

“I’ll have to ask, but I’m sure he’d be glad to see you,” I said, ruffling his hair. Marvel had always loved Gloss, especially since he had won the Hunger Games. Three years later and it was still weird that Gloss was practically a celebrity. I watched Marvel as he resumed organizing the stacks of paperwork.

The guilt of my secret was weighing on me like a bag of bricks. Although I didn't want it to happen, I knew it was time.

“Hey kiddo," I began nervously. "I'm going to go downstairs and do some inventory. Will you come with me? I wanna show you something.”


End file.
